My Heart Is A Tragedy of War
by musefatale
Summary: Harry/Draco. After the war, Harry wakes up, in more ways than one. Written in 2007


**Title: **My Heart (is a Casualty of War)  
**Rating:** Soft R.  
**Pairings:** Harry/Draco  
**Warnings:** Semi-public kissing, slash, this one's really pretty tame.  
**Summary:** After the war, Harry wakes up, in more ways than one.  
**Author's** Notes: Quite fun to write, this one was; as I've never really written anything like it before!

**My Heart…**

After the war, Harry slept for days. It was dreamless. Not once was he awoken by a twinge in his scar or by a nightmare. Hermione would later say that it was his mind's way of coping with everything that he had gone through in the past years. She would also say that it was time Harry slept, for it seemed like he had never really, truly slept before now. She would do well in those couple days to keep everyone away from his room and to keep the celebration down to a rumble that would not wake him. When his body had recovered from years of missed sleep, he merely rolled over and opened his eyes.

With a yawn and a stretch, he tucked his arms under his pillow and lay awake in his bed staring out the window at the setting sun. He didn't want to know how long it had been since he first crawled in to bed. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he shoved off the blankets and made his way to the showers with his wand in hand.

Grabbing a towel from a rack just inside the bathroom door, he made his way to the shower. He stood under the steaming water for the longest time, letting it ease his muscles and wash away all of the tension and dirt from his body. It seemed so long since he'd actually taken a long shower, and he savored it – knowing that there was no chance of the water running cold. At last he summoned a bottle of shampoo and soap and a razor to shave his face, which had gotten rather scruffy. He washed and shaved and grudgingly stepped from the shower. As he dried off he thought that he felt happier in that moment that he had felt in years.

Refreshed, relieved, he decided next to pay attention to his growling stomach. He was sure everyone else was down eating as well. He dressed quickly, anxious to be with his friends, ready to face the numbers that they had lost (those who he mourned in the hours before sleep finally took him days ago). On the way down from Gryffindor tower, though, it wasn't one of his fellow Gryffindors that greeted him, but a face that he was hoping not to have to look in for a long time still.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked his voice a little more biting than he had intended it on being.

"Waiting for you," Draco replied, still facing the other direction – his head hung and his pale blonde hair flopped in his face.

Harry came down the stairs until he was standing in front of Draco, staring down at him. "Why?" he asked.

"I needed to talk to you,"

Harry folded his arms across his chest, "And what makes you think I want to talk to you?"

Draco looked up at Harry, his face pale and gaunt, deep red circles under his eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept in days and Harry had a sneaking suspicion that he hadn't. Harry sighed and sat down on the stair next to Draco.

"Okay, but make it quick."

Draco turned to Harry, pushing his hair away from his face. "I want to tell you that I'm sorry and… thank you."

"For what?" Harry asked sharply.

"Just shut up for a minute, Potter, I was getting to that," Draco replied with a roll of his eyes. When he was sure that Harry wasn't going to start talking again, he sighed and started once more. "I know I've been a complete bastard for the last seven years, and I want to apologize for that. But I want to apologize even more for the reasons why. You were the only person to ever disregard who I was and completely refuse my friendship. At first I thought that it was just because you were the Boy Who Lived and you thought you were better than I was. I came to realize that it was because you knew what real friends were – regardless of the names they had. I don't know which was worse, thinking that you thought you were better than me or knowing that I wasn't good enough for you.

"And then, before I realized that it was happening I became the one person I had always dreaded being. I had all of my father's expectations to live up to. I had to be the perfect son that he wanted me to be because I had already failed him in so many other ways. I would _never_ be the son he wanted me to be. When he went to Azkaban, it was all on me to take over his responsibilities. I had more expectations on me than ever before and I was drowning in them. If I had ever seen any way out of it without getting my parents killed, myself killed, and everything I've ever loved destroyed I would have taken it in an instant. But I would give my own life for my mother. I'd never want to see her hurt or know that it's my fault that she's been hurt. What I did, I had to do because people I loved would be killed. I know you hate me for all of it, I know you want me dead as well and I don't blame you. But I'm selfish, I need my family. I'd do anything to keep them.

"I regret not doing more to help you, and after all of this I wouldn't blame you if you turned me over to the Ministry to let me rot in Azkaban. And I wouldn't fight it, as long as I knew my parents were alright. But all along, Harry, whether you believe me or not, all along I was praying that you would win. I didn't want to go through any of that anymore – I wanted it to be over, I wanted the nightmare to just end. I was ill with waking up from the dream of my mother being tortured to death by Voldemort every night. I had to pull away from all the people who were supposed to be my friends because I couldn't stand looking in their faces knowing they still believed the propaganda that I no longer believed. I hated myself, I hated all of them, and all along the only thing I wanted to do was to tell you. I knew you wouldn't believe me. I knew you wouldn't even look at me; that you'd just as well spit in my face than listen to what I had to say."

Draco took a deep, shaky breath, trying not to cry in front of the boy he'd spent so long trying to bring himself to hate. "I don't expect you to forgive me for what I've done; I just… needed to tell you now."

Harry listened in stunned silence, watching that pain in the pale boy's face as he spoke. He didn't know how he could i _not /i _ believe Draco with the way he spoke. Harry could understand what he was asking for. It was the same thing Snape was asking for when he's bequeathed Harry his final memories: understanding, forgiveness, redemption. Hesitantly, Harry reached out and put a hand on Draco's shoulder.

"I believe you," he murmured. "I believe that you love your parents and you'd do anything to save them. If I had a choice to sacrifice something like that for the people I loved, I would have done it in a moment. Unfortunately for me I didn't have that choice; my decision was made for me years ago when Voldemort picked me to fulfill that prophecy. I don't… really… blame you for taking that opportunity, though. You're right, I did hate you. I hated you because I thought you were just like your father. But I saw the hesitation in your face when you came up against Dumbledore; I saw how much you didn't want to do it, even though it took me months to realize that's what I had seen. I've come to understand a lot of things about a lot of people that I never thought were possible. It's a lot to take in and a lot to process, but I do believe you. And, if my forgiveness is worth anything to you, you have it."

Draco sniffed and wiped one of his eyes before turning to Harry and offering him a weak smile. "It does mean a lot to me, actually," he whispered. "Just uhm… don't tell anyone about this, okay."

Harry chuckled and nodded, "Yeah, okay… deal."

There was a silent pause as Harry thought about Draco's words, one phrase standing out to him for a reason he couldn't explain. It was curious the way Draco had phrased it, like there was yet another confession waiting to make its way out of his words. Harry decided that he might as well ask, since they were already talking; a fact that wasn't as weird as Harry had thought it would be in the beginning.

"Draco," he started, a questioning tone to his voice, "if you don't mind my asking, what did you mean when you said that you'd never be the son your father wanted you to be?"

Draco chuckled warily and shook his head, "I would have thought that was obvious, Harry… There's a certain expectation for those born into pureblood families: find a proper pureblood spouse and have pureblood children to carry on your family name. Few deviate from that prescription, because they're likely to get blasted off their family tree for it…"

Harry remembered the singed image where Andromeda Black's face had been burned off the family tree when she'd run away with the Muggle man Ted Tonks.

"You see, it's a little more complicated than that for me, and that's already pretty complicated. I'd tell you how hard my father beat me when he found out, but I don't want your pity when it comes to that." He took a deep breath and rubbed his hand over his face. "I guess what I'm doing a bloody awful job of getting at, is that I'm gay."

Harry mouth fell open in shock, "But you… and Pansy… I thought you were…"

"Faking it," he said, cutting Harry off. "It was supposed to be an arranged marriage, but none of that matters anymore. I don't care anymore. I'm doing what I want I want to do with my life now. I've seen what living under my father's thumb has turned me into and I hate that person."

"So what is that you want to do now, then?" Harry asked, hesitantly, afraid that he didn't want to know the answer, for whatever reason.

Draco looked over his shoulder at Harry and then looked away with his face expressionless. "Right now, I think I'd like to kiss you, actually." Draco braced himself to be socked in the face or kicked down the stairs or something equally as violent; perhaps that awful curse again, the one that had left him with his scars. Instead, Harry merely continued to stare at him, muttering a soft "oh".

"Oh?" Draco repeated with a raise of his platinum-blonde eyebrow. "Someone tells you they want to kiss you and all you can say is 'oh'? At least hit me or something, Potter."

Harry gulped and leaned forward, halting just a few inches from Draco's face. He had half of a thought as to if they should be doing this at all, much less here where just anyone could happen upon them. Draco sneered at him, but then took his invitation and dipped his head to capture Harry's lips with his own.

His kiss was unexpectedly soft, gentle, and warm. The hands that cupped Harry's face were also surprisingly so. Harry found himself actually enjoying what Draco's mouth taste like – clean like toothpaste and sharp like peppermint candies. It was slow and chaste at first, with just their lips pressed together, moving hesitantly against each other – testing the waters, waiting for any sign of the one to push the other away. When it was clear to Draco that Harry wasn't going to sock him or curse him, he slid closer to the dark-haired boy and deepened the kiss. It grew steadily more confident. Mouths opened to one another, tongues probed and hot, shaky breath sucked in and blew out over wet lips. Harry's face was still in Draco's hands while Harry's hands were on Draco's knees. It was the first time Harry had ever kissed a boy, and while he'd wondered before what it would feel like, if it would be different, he marveled at how much _better _ it felt than any girl he'd ever kissed.

When Draco backed away, a soft pink blush had formed on his alabaster cheeks and Harry was panting softly.

"That was…" Harry started,

"Nice," Draco completed.

Harry nodded, though he didn't want to admit that it really was. At least he could be left assured that Draco wouldn't tell anyone if Harry asked him not to. Tentatively, Harry brought his fingers up to his lips and brushed across them, shivering.

"I should be going before the shock wears off and you have yet another reason to tell all of your friends how big of a bastard I am," Draco sighed, standing. He looked better than he had when Harry had come down the stairs. Maybe it was because there was a little color to him.

"You don't have to," Harry said quickly, standing up to look at Draco nearly eye-to-eye.

"You want me to stay, then?" he asked smugly.

"I… well… what I mean to say is…" Harry stammered.

"You liked it that much?"

Harry blushed and nodded.

"You have too much to lose by being seen with me," Draco replied sadly.

"I think at this point they'll just shut up and accept whatever I decide to do. I pretty much saved everyone, you know," Harry shot back.

Draco laughed. "Yes, you did. So, Boy Wonder, all you have to do is ask and I'm at your eternal disposal. After all, I literally owe you my life; in some cultures that would make me your servant."

"Well then, _servant _," Harry chuckled, "Kiss me again?"


End file.
